


Clash Upon a Precipice

by Zephryn



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angry Boi Dimitri, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, F/M, Feral Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, My Beloved - Dimileth Zine, Sad My Unit | Byleth, dimileth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephryn/pseuds/Zephryn
Summary: Byleth confronts a Feral Dimitri at night and attempt to "talk" some sense into him. Unfortunately, words are meaningless. Good thing she has a sword to help put her make her point across.Written for the "My Beloved" Fanzine Project on Twitter (@mybelovedzine) .
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70
Collections: Dimileth





	Clash Upon a Precipice

**Author's Note:**

> I was never good at summaries. Or Titles but considering today is the 1 year anniversary of Fire Emblem Three Houses, I figured today was a good day to post this.
> 
> The Zine should be shipping out to those who purchased and to those who did, I thank you for supporting that project. For those who didn't, please enjoy the piece I wrote. I am proud of it and how it flowed and I still love that I still know how to write a good fight scene. :)

A flash of gold, the tell-tale chime of a crest activation, her eyes drifted to the left but she feigned right. The Sublime Sword of the Creator rose upwards to cover her flank. Byleth steeled herself, bracing herself for impact.

Metal on metal screeched against each other, Areadbhar catching itself between the small serrations of Creator before it sliding free. The blade of the Relic spear swung downwards, blade carefully turned toward the ground. 

Both combatants paused, eyes not leaving the other.

Byleth lowered her weapon, mouth tight as she studied the man in front of her.

Moonlight cast a luminescent glow onto an azure eye. The blue of his armor was stark against the black plate. His cloak made him larger than he should be. It was an intimidation ploy, one that probably served him well in the past and no doubt will continue to do so in the future. 

It would have worked flawlessly, if she was anyone other than herself. If she was in truth his enemy.

She wasn’t but that meant nothing if he did not see it too.

A growl like thunder reverberated in the space between them. Loud and deep. Foreboding. The sky above was clear with looming clouds gathering on the horizon. Rain would come but not for some time.

The sound of gravel shifting was her only warning.

Byleth brought her sword to her face, blocking the strike of Areadbhar. 

Another chime sounded, this time her own. A rush of adrenaline steeled her arms, giving her the additional strength needed. She tightened her jaw and _pushed_ forward.

He countered, utilizing his own inhuman strength to press down. He snarled at her, mouth opened and teeth bared. His single eye narrowed in a glare. She could feel his breath hot and harsh against her face between the crossed blades of their respective weapons. 

“ _Move aside_ ,” he hissed. “You’re in my way, _Professor._ ” The harsh bite of his voice might as well be a knife in her chest. Yet like every growl, every bark and insult he made toward her (to others), she paid it no mind. Or at least forced herself not to think of it. 

To not let her hurt show. 

Once, they called her emotionless. Yet now, she felt anything but. 

Especially if it involved her students, notably her _favorite_. (Though if asked, she would deny it. She couldn’t--wouldn’t--admit to favoritism because that was a path she refused to follow. Morally and ethically.) Even so, it was a chore to ensure her facade remained unbroken. To pretend that nothing he said (or did) affected her.

For the rest, she was their beacon of strength. At least, until he finally came back to his damn senses.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Voice neutral, she stared back at the fallen prince with eyes unblinking. “To Enbarr?” Her eyes narrowed and shoved _hard_ , breaking their stalemate before taking a step back.

Despite her strength, he only moved enough to dislodge his spear. _Irritating_ , she thought while she gave him a look over. In the moonlight, his face became even more inflamed with rage. Hate.

“You know we’re going there. Not yet. Not now,” Byleth continued, handgrip deceptively loose on the hilt of her weapon. Head held high, she steeled her spine as she met his gaze with a stony glare of her own. “You’re still needed. The army is still recovering.

“We can’t afford to be separated.” _We can’t lose you_ , she added silently. “Not if you want to win this damn forsaken war.” 

Dimitri scoffed, jaw tightened as he broke their staring contest. “The war can go to hell fire for all I care. I just _want her damn head_.” 

He stood up straighter, grip tight on Areadbhar. No doubt, his knuckles were white with how hard he held the relic. Unlike others cursed with uncontrollable anger or fury, he didn’t shake with rage, the slight tremor in his arm was more than enough. “At my feet. On my spear. Doesn’t matter. As long as she’s dead. As long as the dead have their due.

“You’re in my way,” he repeated, spearhead finally pointed downwards as he moved forward in a slow deliberate stride.

Byleth stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “I won’t let you do this.” _I won’t let you go._ _I left you once, never again._ Regret and guilt surged in her gut. It was a bitter taste she was now long familiar with once she returned and she _hated_ it. 

“If you want to go anywhere, you’ll go _through me_.”

Her neck strained from the effort to look him directly into the eye, lips tight in a harsh frown of her own. Her palm tightened around her sword’s hilt and her thumb nudged the hidden mechanism just under the cross-guard.

Dimitri’s strengths laid with his brute power. Hers rested with her speed. If she had to, she could restrain him within moments. He wouldn’t know it was happening until it was too late. Yet, even as his head lowered, bangs fell further into his face and the bright blue of his gaze obscured, Byleth knew he was onto her.

For all his rage and his narrow-minded stubbornness, he knew a battlefield inside and out and the cunning required for combat. He knew how to fight, how to survive by the skin of his teeth but that--was not enough.

They couldn’t--wouldn’t--risk it.

“Is that what it will take?” Dimitri cocked his head to the side, his single eye hard as he looked down to her. With his cloak, his size and bulk, he loomed over her, intimidation weighing heavy on each word he spoke. “Of course it is. You’re just like the rest of them.

“An obstacle. A distraction.”

She stepped forward, “You called me your weapon. Said you would use me until I was nothing but bones.” Byleth stiffened her shoulders and took another precarious step into his space. “Do you think differently of me now?”

“The more we wait,” he snarled, hand tightening on the spear of his weapon, the tip of Areadbhar scraping against the ground ominously, “the more time, _she_ eludes me. I cannot--will not--wait any longer. _They_ will not wait. I _won’t_ let them wait any longer.”

Her eyes flickered towards the spear’s blade for the barest of seconds.

Byleth drew her sword arm back, her thumb pressed against the mechanism and threw her sword forward. Metal sang as the chain fully extended but Dimitri was gone. Vanished from where he stood.

The siren scream of spear slicing the air betrayed him and she dodged left and tumbled into a roll, not bothering to retract her weapon back to its sword form. Instead she swung again, the tip extending far toward she heard him and his spear. she struck true but before she could even catch his spear, pull it toward her like she would a normal foe, he was one step ahead of her.

It was in the twist of his wrist, the brute of his strength but the segments of the Creator relic wrap around the blade of his spear. A deliberate move and one she might have applauded him if he was still her student and he still thought of her as his professor. It was something awe-inspiring. Unexpected from someone who had once fought with honor in mock battles and scheduled tournament duels. Not unexpected someone who fought like a demonic beast on the battlefield where life and death danced precariously on the edge of a weapon’s blade, or at the words of a powerful mage.

He pulled hard, forcing her to tumble and lose her footing as she stood. 

Grabbing both hands of her hilt, she pulled against him, a more volatile tug of war with her own relic as the actual rope.

Each tug he made, he wrapped more of the sword around his spear. Each pull she made, she kept losing her ground.

Byleth hissed, low and soft. She had one chance.

Her thumb touched that mechanism under the crossguard and she went flying, the speed of the sword retracting into itself enough to launch her toward him.

Dimitri’s single eye widened but it was enough.

Her feet slammed into the center of his chest, inciting a gruntled gasp. One armored knee slammed onto the floor from the force of impact. Byleth dropped her sword, a mistake if this was a real duel but this was anything but. He ensured that the moment he tried to walk away from her.

She threw a punch toward his face, fingers curled into her palm. Flesh met her knuckles and the plates covering the back of her hand drew blood easily.

Areadbhar fell onto the ground, pieces of the Creator still entangled but that meant nothing. Byleth’s eyes were on the sudden gauntlet slashing toward her face. She turned her head, not fast enough as sharp armored claws scratched as her cheek, slicing into her skin. 

Ducking low, she went under the sudden grapple, his reach longer than she would have liked but this was her advantage. Speed and flexibility.

He was never that much of a brawler. He never really bothered to show interest in the arts and she felt no need to teach him it.

Despite herself, Byleth’s lip curled into a slight smirk. Overconfident, she went low and weaved herself through the moving tangle of his arms and threw another jab toward his face.

_Contact_.

Dimitri stumbled backwards, face crumpled. His head jolted upwards and his bright blue eye caught hers. With a growl, he launched her, arms outstretched in a tackle. She spun to the side, her jacket flung out behind her. Turning on the ball of her foot, she struck with a fast sidekick to his back causing him to fall forward and landed on his face.

The moon drew higher in the sky, reflecting off the metal of her arm guards as she rushed forward for another strike.

She threw herself at him, tackling him back onto the ground before scrambling to wrap her legs around his shoulders, arm wrapping against his neck as she pulled his head back. 

“Stand down,” she hissed, eyes moving from his face and then to his arm before she wrapped her ankles around his arm and used her position to hopefully as leverage to prevent him from getting a better hold on her and turn the tide. She steeled the muscles her legs, pulling hard onto his arm until he couldn’t pull it forward or break her hold, pinning it with great effort.

Yet, that nothing she did would stand against the tell-tale chime of a crest being activated.

Dimitri roared, pitching upwards and forwards. The arm around his neck slipped, surprise weakening her grip. He broke her hold easily and spun fast once fully upright, dislodging her as if she weighed nothing. Byleth’s hands grappled at his cloak for a handhold but not enough, it wasn’t enough.

She collided with the ground, rolling for what felt like an eternity before she finally slowed. Yet before she could even capture her breath, he was there.

The gold of Areadbhar caught the moonlight, her only warning.

The whistling of metal slicing the wind filled her ears, the metal of the holy Blaiddyd relic rushing toward her. Byleth flinched, her eyes closed tight. Fear froze her blood.

Pain flared.

Her pulse raced underneath her skin, faster than she ever perceived. 

Time stood at a standstill and despite it all, she didn’t reach for the burst of power she held in her chest, the one that could truly turn the tide. Her secret advantage in all battles, in all fights once she started working at the Monastery.

If he wanted her death, she would give it.

Yet…

Yet.

Seconds ticked.

In the distance, she thought she could hear the chime of bells signalling the hour.

Byleth cracked her eye open as harsh and heavy breathing (hot like the lava fields of Ailell) brushed against her cheeks. A weight like no other fell on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

Blue, all she can see is blue and the black of his eyepatch. Dimitri’s mouth was pulled back in an open snarl, his teeth white and bared inches above her face. 

“Why,” he growled, “must you always--”

He cut himself off, scoffing and turning his head aside.

The blade of Areadbhar had landed next to her face, she could see it through the corner of her eye. A single head turn could make the slice in her cheek worse. Holding herself frozen, she took one unsteady breath as she catalogued their positions.

One of his hands was on his spear. The other, flat against the ground on the other side of her head. His chest plate pressed into her own, armored legs trapped her own. Byleth swallowed and she exhaled, slow and deliberate.

She pulled her hand out from under him, from between their bodies.

“Always what,” she asked softly, not betraying any fear. “What am I always doing, Dimitri?”

Dimitri huffed, body almost relaxing above her. The grip on his spear loosened as he stared down onto her, his hair creating a curtain of privacy around both their faces. This close, she could see how deep the shadows were underneath his visible eye. The adam’s apple in his throat bounced repeatedly with each swallow. His mouth opened, then closed yet nothing came out.

Eventually, he barked out (more of a choke than a bark; harsh and filled with something she couldn’t name, something familiar but still elusive), “Forget it. It’s meaningless. All of it. There’s only--”

Her palm touched his skin and he flinched out of her grip. Eye wide, he stared at her, his mouth open in shock.

“Tell me,” she asked, holding onto an emotion that once eluded her in the past, different from what had filled his voice. An emotion she actually knew the name of and held dear to herself. “What’s meaningless?”

Compassion tasted sweet but not cloying sweet or artificial. “Let me help you, Dimitri. Please.” Her face softened and she reached for him again but in the next breath, his weight lifted.

He scrambled back onto his feet, shadows darkened his face. Fear? Hate? She couldn’t tell but even as she sat up, he was holstering Areadbhar onto his back.

Once, he would have reached out to her and helped her to her feet without a second thought. 

Here, he stood and stepped around her, not once looking down at her. Even from her spot on the ground, despite the cloak and the heavy armor he wore, she knew without a doubt how ridge his spine had become, how much it had stiffened into steel.

Dimitri strode past her, the gravel of the ground rustling in his wake until eventually the clank of his armor stilled.

“Get up and heal your wounds, Professor,” he spoke, almost too soft for her to hear, making her think she imagined the concern that had filled those six words.

His voice grew louder, authoritative and powerful, “You’ve made a promise to me and I plan to see it through.

“If you won’t let me take her head this night, then you will help me retrieve it in the morning. With the rest of our army at my side. Tomorrow we march together, toward Enbarr.”

Byleth jolted, struck by the lightning of his words. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her sword as she rose. Instead of facing the forestline and darkness that separated the Monastery and the rest of the world, he stared at the towering stone of the towers and the cathedral, the highest points of Garreg Mach that can be seen from almost anywhere.

“That is what you had promised, is it not?” He turned his head toward her without actually looking at her. “You would help me sever her head and put an end to everything?”

With a heavy breath, his shoulders fell before he became like stone again and stepped forward.

Toward the school, toward the Church, to no doubt his post in the Cathedral.

Yet, despite that, something bubbled in her chest. It felt warm, comforting. Something she had not felt since she first was reunited with her students, when she first saw him sitting in the shadows of the church after she finally woken from her slumber.

It felt like hope, feeble and weak but not completely gone.

Closing her eyes, Byleth tilted her head back and sent a prayer to a long forgotten friend (a voice that once reverberated in her head) before she sheathed her sword and followed Dimitri’s path back to the Monastery.

She ran after him, the beginning of a smile touching her face.

Despite everything, it felt like this damn stalemate of theirs was finally cracking. 

He wasn’t completely gone as others thought he was.

She could still offer her hand.

And he could still, maybe one day, grasp it in his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I hope you enjoyed the second fully written piece I made in X years. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
